Death By Satin
by Jasmine2009
Summary: Tony is attending his own "staged" funeral in an effort to capture a terrorist.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Death by Satin  
>Author: Jasmine<br>Date: October 9, 2011  
>Rated: PG-15 (nothing explicit, inferences of physical and sexual abuse)<br>Summary: Tony is attending his own "staged" funeral in an effort to capture a terrorist.  
>Challenge: I finally wrote a story under 5,000 words, with room to spare!<p>

Chapter 1

Palmer steered clear of him. No matter how deceptive his appearance, he was still a force to be reckoned with. The medical assistant looked down at the chart in his hand, glanced at the empty table in front of him, and even looked up at the ceiling a couple of times, but he never made eye contact with the field agent. He kept close tabs on him by peering over his rounded spectacles and watching him pace the length of the autopsy room, but he made damn sure he didn't get in his way. The tall, classically good-looking man, who challenged even the strongest of relationships, never seemed to stop moving. And dressed in a two thousand dollar custom-made white satin Marcelo Guglielmo suit gave him God-like qualities. He made a mental note to keep Breena away from him at the funeral today, for Anthony DiNozzo was what most men feared, admired, and envied all at the same time.

"C'mon, Ducky. How long does it take to prepare a coffin?"

"Anthony, it takes as long as it takes, and we like to refer to them as caskets. Why don't you sit down and relax."

The autopsy door slid open and in walked a parade of people wearing black: black suits, black ties, black skirts, black blouses, black shoes, and even a black umbrella.

"It's about time," Tony said. "We should be leaving now."

"What's your rush?" Gibbs replied.

Abby slowed her gate in awe of what she saw. "Whoa," she said, appreciating her colleague. "Did you just step off the cover of GQ?"

"Not exactly, but I did ask if I was the first corpse to wear this and I didn't get an answer," Tony said, and then he shivered at the thought of wearing clothes that may have already adorned the body of a dead man.

Abby nudged Ziva and said, "Have you ever seen anyone wear a suit as well as Tony?"

The Moussad officer had already given her partner a head to toe once-over, and was trying to conceal her lustful thoughts, "Tony definitely wears it well, although I have not seen Gibbs in one. I imagine he would wear one just as well."

"So true."

McGee smirked at his female colleagues and wondered what Tony had that he didn't. But it was obvious what that was. In the looks department, Tony DiNozzo was second to none and probably one of the best looking agents in the building. That fact was well known. Now, as he looked at him in the white fitted double-breasted jacket with velvet lapels, over a white shirt and white tie against his dark complexion, he had to admit that his status had no doubt elevated to the best looking guy in the agency. It still didn't change the fact that what he was about to do was extremely risky and may not work. Although by looking at him, you'd never know it. He was fidgety, but Tony's normally fidgety so it's hard to tell if it was nerves, excess energy, or just plain eagerness at going undercover. Watching the ladies gape, he added as enthusiastically as he could muster, "They did a great job covering the bruises, Tony. You'll make a great corpse."

"I don't care about being a corpse, McMourner, I care about getting this bastard."

"And just what do you plan to do with him?" Vance said, having entered the room unnoticed.

"Director," Tony acknowledged in his dutifully respectful way, "I'm hoping to put a bullet in his head."

Ziva filled the momentarily awkward silence by saying, "Tony is still angry that Khalid kidnapped him."

"He did more than just kidnap him," Ducky reminded everyone. "Remember, Anthony, we replaced both casts with soft ones. They don't offer as much support but at least they won't show under your clothes, so you mustn't move around a lot."

Fingering his gun through his jacket, Tony mumbled, "I don't intend on moving much, Ducky." He remembered the day, three weeks ago, when he was nabbed while leaving work. It'd happened so fast that at first he thought someone was playing a practical joke on him. But after the first broken bone, he realized this was no joke.

Khalid turned out to be a member of a rogue sleeper terrorist group who didn't like to follow orders. Acting on his own, he was intent on getting information about NCIS and making a name for himself in the process. And he didn't care what he did to his victims to get the information.

The physical abuse had been evident on Tony's body. The deep cuts and black and blue bruises were quite profound, taking days to heal. And then there were the broken bones. But it was the sexual abuse he had kept hidden. It brought back too many memories that had taken him a lifetime to bury; he wasn't about to resurrect them again. All he wanted now was to kill the bastard.

The smell in Autopsy reminded him of Khalid. The sterile antiseptic used to clean the tables and floor held the same tobacco mixed with peppermint gum odor of his attacker, and it took everything he had to keep the contents of his stomach down at the thought of his foul breath on his neck as he was being assaulted.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs repeated, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"What! What!"

Gibbs studied his senior field agent. At that moment, everyone was studying him, silently, not moving anything but their eyes. Something had just passed through Tony's mind and it wasn't a pleasant something. His pupils dilated to twice their normal size, giving them a dark and dangerous look. Gibbs took a hold of Tony's shoulder and guided him towards Ducky's desk. "Have a drink."

"I don't want a drink. We should just go."

"We have plenty of time. Besides, it's not every day you get to attend your own funeral." He offered a crooked smile while handing a small glass of bourbon to Tony. It took a couple of nods of encouragement and a well timed, "C'mon, take it," before he finally took it, but he failed to take so much as a sip. Then Gibbs glared at the others, mutely communicating orders. Suddenly they came to life and each took a small shot glass filled with Ducky's finest bourbon.

McGee offered, "I am going to give your eulogy, Tony. I hope you like it."

But Tony had begun pacing the floor again, much to the concerned looks of his co-workers. Ziva said, "Tony, you do not need to worry about Khalid. We know he likes to attend the funeral of his victims—"

"—I am NOT one of his victims, Ziva!"

The sudden outburst from someone who characteristically made jokes of everything made everyone pause. Ziva quickly said, "I am sorry, Tony… I didn't mean anything…"

Ducky broke the tension with, "Of course you're not a victim, Anthony. But, you are right in that we should be on our way, so let me offer a toast: May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rains fall soft upon your fields and until you have fully recovered, May the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand, and keep you safe from your own Demons."

Tony furrowed his brow, "That's what you say to your dead?"

"It loses something in translation," Ducky hedged, not being able to resist making up his own version for the occasion. He raised his glass and said, "Bottoms up."

Tony downed his shot and slammed the glass on Ducky's desk. For fine bourbon, it sure stung going down. After clearing his throat from the harsh medicinal flavor, he checked his gun and made sure it was clipped snugly to his belt, and croaked, "I'm ready, Ducky. Do I really have to ride in this coffin?"

The doctor didn't answer, but instead studied the young man.

Observing that the casket was heavily padded and lined in black satin, he asked, "Is there such a thing as death by satin?" Not waiting for a reply, he continued, "I'm not claustrophobic, but I could be if I have to spend too much time in here." Inspecting the lid, he offered, "Maybe we could just close the lower half and leave the upper half open, just until... just until... We. Get. There—" Tony gripped the side of the wooden box, blinking several times. He shook his head, shaking off the nauseous feeling.

When the dizziness wouldn't subside, he turned and looked at the array of people who seemed to be staring at him. Not one of them had drunk their bourbon, and that's when it hit him. "Damnit, Boss!" He reached his hand out to steady himself but this time found nothing tangible to grab.

Gibbs took it and Ducky said, "Be careful with that arm, Jethro."

"Boss…" Tony slurred. "You can't do dis."

"Tony, we'll get this guy," he said while ushering him over to Ducky's chair. "He won't show if he smells a trap so you have to play a real good dead guy."

"What did you give me?"

"A mild sedative, something Ducky concocted, to take your mind off things."

"Thasss not fair," he slurred, trying to clear his head and resist the drug.

"You didn't give me much of a choice."

"Anthony," Ducky said, stepping beside Gibbs, "I'm going to give you something that will further depress your system. But you won't have anything to worry about because I will be monitoring you closely while you're in a state of slumber."

"Duckeey, Don't do dis… I don' wanna be out." His childlike plea did not go unnoticed.

"I know you don't, my boy, but I have my orders like you have your orders."

Tony swayed and shook his head erratically, "Why?"

"Because you're too close to this, Tony," Gibbs said, "I promise you, I will get this guy."

"You donn't und'stand wha' happened."

Gibbs lowered his voice to barely a whisper, "I know what he did."

"But… you donn't know ever'thing..."

"Yes, Tony, I know."

"But..."

Gibbs put his hand behind Tony's neck and leaned closer towards him, "I know, Tony. I know."

Tony averted his eyes, trying to make sense of what he had just heard and trying to keep his lids from shutting permanently.

"Give me a hand with him," Gibbs said, not giving him a chance to respond. Between him, McGee and Palmer, they managed to get him into the casket, but he didn't help any and he wasn't very happy. Gibbs removed his gun, but when his eyes caught DiNozzo's, he was instantly hit with more pangs of guilt. "Ziver."

She rounded the coffin and took her partner's hand and held it. Leaning closer, she laid her other hand gently on the side of his face and whispered, "Tony, Gibbs is right. We will take care of Khalid."

As hard as he tried, he couldn't fight the drug anymore. He lulled his head and tried to talk, but nothing was forming and it felt so blessed good to close his eyes and relax. He gave Ziva a final plea, then let the fast current of unconsciousness sweep him away.

She laid his hand gently across his stomach, mindful of the soft cast. Relief should have permeated the room, but instead, there was definitely a cloud of guilt floating about. Tony was just one of those guys who never asked for sympathy but sure knew how to get it. Palmer collected the glasses and dumped the remains, while Gibbs and McGee set about straightening Tony's clothes. Then they stepped back and let Ducky and Abby do their thing.

"Are you sure about this, Duck?" Gibbs asked, as he watched Ducky prepare a syringe and then connect it to a small bag filled with fluid.

"I did this once before, many years ago and it worked like a charm. Besides, you don't think I'd put our resident Italian playboy in danger, do you?" He lifted Tony's pant leg and found a vein about a quarter of the way up his calf. He inserted the IV and threaded the thin tube down the back side of his leg and into a neat thin slice he had made earlier in the black satin. He stuffed the bag up the hole and felt for the hook to hold it. Once that was in place, he handed over a metal bracelet and said, "Here, put this on him."

Gibbs took what looked like a watch from the doctor and examined it. "What is it?"

"That's how I will be able to monitor his vitals. The wrist band is actually a redesigned chest patch, thanks to Abby's ingenuity."

"Not just me, McGee helped too." Abby took the watch from Gibbs, "See this right here?" she turned the band inside out, "these tiny wires are sensors, and they'll record Tony's heart rate, temperature, and blood pressure. It'll send the data here to be transmitted."

McGee stepped in and continued, "The face of the watch is actually a tiny wireless router, so Ducky will be able to monitor him remotely."

Gibbs shifted his weight from left to right and back again, "There's just one problem. Ducky's going to be in the funeral with us. How's he going to monitor Tony?"

"That's the great part," McGee said, smiling. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ear wig attached to an over-the-ear hook. "This looks like an ordinary hearing aid, but it's actually a receiver with audible software built in. As long as Ducky stays within range, he'll be able to hear Tony's vitals."

Gibbs stared blankly.

McGee stared back. Finally McGee explained, "Think—"

"—I know what it is, McGee. It's an old fashioned AM Transistor radio."

"Exactly…, only with a few enhancements."

Gibbs turned his attention back to his senior field agent. He was sleeping but he looked anything but peaceful.

"When we get to the funeral home, Mrs. Sutton will touch up his face and cover the bruises a little better," Ducky said, as if reading Gibbs' mind.

"I sure don't want to be around when he wakes up," Palmer stated absently. Looking up and seeing Gibbs' look, he quickly added, "But of course, if you need me, I'll be happy to help. But you should know that he sort of scares me."

McGee felt compelled to reply, "Don't let Tony scare you, he's as harmless as a dot matrix printer." But even Palmer could tell Tim was lying.

**Note: Any and all feedback is appreciated. If you're a writer, you know it's the feedback that keeps you writing. Hope you enjoy this little diddie! Just one chapter left! **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tony felt groggy. His eyelids were heavy, his vision was blurred, and his mouth was dry. On top of that he didn't know where he was and for a moment he thought he was locked inside the casket until he moved his arms and realized he wasn't in a box, just a very dark room.

"How you feeling?"

He turned his head in the direction of the voice and saw the torso of his boss silhouetted in the dim light. "I don't know yet. Where am I?"

"My place. You've been out nearly twelve hours."

Tony moved each part of his body as best he could, and then tried to get up. It took more effort than he thought possible, but he managed to swing his legs over the side of the makeshift bed and sit there, trying to remember what happened. It was all a blur. "I don't remember much. Did you get him?"

"Yeah, we got him." Gibbs reached up and pulled on a string, flooding the room with soft incandescent light.

Tony blinked several times at the sudden invasion to his pupils. Finally, he focused on the clothes he was wearing. His white satin suit was now covered in bright red blotches. At first, he thought it might have been his own blood and with the way he felt, it thought that was quite feasible.

"It's not yours, Tony. It's Khalid's."

"Oh." He tried to remember how it all went down but the last thing he remembered was being in Autopsy. "So… is he dead?"

"Yeah, he's dead."

He would have thought he'd feel relief from the news, but he didn't. He had wanted to be the one to shoot the son-of-a-bitch. He had wanted to be the one to look in Khalid's eyes at the moment he knew he was going to die and see if there was any remorse for what he did.

Gibbs watched him search the empty air for answers, knowing he wouldn't find any. "Tony, we got the bastard. There's no way he's ever going to hurt you again."

"How'd he die?"

Gibbs took a deep breath, remembering when Khalid entered the church. There was a fleeting moment when he thought the Islamic extremist knew this was a trap, sensing that everyone there was an armed federal agent, but he had been mistaken and Khalid mingled with the crowd while making his way towards the casket. The plan was to take him down when Khalid least expected it, but what Gibbs hadn't anticipated was seeing the sexual lust in the terrorist's eyes as he peered down on his senior field agent. Gibbs didn't want him anywhere near Tony and that's when he made his move. Fortunately for all involved, "Khalid tried for his gun. He didn't get very far."

Tony rubbed the back of his neck, working out the stiffness that came from lying on one's back for twelve straight hours. "Can I see him?"

Gibbs set his beer down and studied him a beat. "If you want. He's in Autopsy until the papers are signed to ship him home."

So, that's that. It's over, Tony thought. Khalid, the man who inflicted such pain and humiliation is dead. Now it was time to move on. But how? How can he bury what happened? Every time he looked at someone, he was sure they knew what Khalid had done to him. How could he face his colleagues? How could he do his job?

"Tony," Gibbs half whispered. "I can't tell you how to move on from this, but I can tell you that you are capable of moving on. That terrorist doesn't have any kind of hold over you. Other than beating you and breaking several of your bones, the others don't know what else he did, and they'll never know if you want it that way. But we want you back, so now you have to do whatever it takes to get yourself back." He stood and walked to a deep sink and filled a glass with water. Then he offered it to Tony. With one hand on his shoulder, his parting words were, "It's over, and we need you back at work."

Tony smiled at his boss and took the glass. The water was welcomed and much needed. Gibbs was right, as usual. It is over. It is time to move on and he wanted to get back to work as much as they wanted him back. Monday would be a new day. "Thanks, Boss."

~~Fini

**Hope this was a fun little read for those who chose to read it. It was fun to write. The story came about because I had wanted to write a scene with Tony wearing a really nice suit and this is what it turned in to.**


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